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Changling

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  • Changling

    The sun's last rays spear the prevailing night
    and a cool breeze chases the fleeting light.
    Yellow, orange and red clouds
    fluidly morph into purple and blue.
    Then, when a starry dome blankets the forest
    and deep-rooted trees are limned by the moon,
    I glide silently upwards;
    passing through leaves and branches
    which close silently behind my passing.
    From above the canopy, I can see insects
    encircling whispering streetlights,
    and the bats who eagerly purse them.
    I coast, pushed by the night breeze,
    and gaze at the cold, remote stars.
    Wanting nothing more than to meet
    another like myself.
    Last edited by D.F.Russell; 04-27-2022, 12:43 PM.
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